<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>More Than Friends: Sockmates by bananamilkie</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528835">More Than Friends: Sockmates</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananamilkie/pseuds/bananamilkie'>bananamilkie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, i literally lost all my socks, this deserves a grammy, this was the best thing ive ever written</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:48:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29528835</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananamilkie/pseuds/bananamilkie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever socks were made of, him and Atsumu were made of the same wool.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>More Than Friends: Sockmates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+bestie+Gracie+%21">My bestie Gracie !</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Weeks and weeks pass by and Sakusa wonders if he’ll ever be okay again. </p><p>Sakusa, a typical, basic, black sock-a standard staple most have in their closet. He was nothing out-of-the ordinary, but he was woven from thick wool, and had a sturdy elastic, imported from South Korea. He had no lettering, no design, no sparkles, but he fit damn well and could probably warm the toes of Elsa. </p><p>Sakusa doesn’t have another half, someone to complete him; Him being a basic black sock, he could match with any other stray sock on the floor of a closet. But they could never compare to the security and comfort Sakusa’s fibers could provide. Sure, black socks all look like identical twins, but Sakusa, was much, much more than that. </p><p>But you see, even the mighty Sakusa had someone by his side, just a couple days ago. Her name was Yachi Hitoka, and despite being the same design: Made on the same day, by the same factory, by the same hands of a grinding laborer to provide for their family, they were not the same. No one ever could be, not with Sakusa, atleast. </p><p>Yachi was a hard worker, always diligently, desperately trying to keep her strands together, “I wish I were like you, Sakusa! You don’t even have to try..” Yachi, as kind as she may be, was not in any way immune to the disease known as jealousy. How was it fair that though she and Sakusa may be the same, that his fibers were so much better than hers? How was it fair that she felt threads on the brink of exhaustion yet his were effortlessly resilient to the harsh winds of Tokyo, Japan? It just wasn’t fair. </p><p>She wasn’t ever going to be good enough, she wasn’t ever going to be like Sakusa, so why should she even try? What’s the point in trying when there’ll always be someone tens and hundreds of times better than you? </p><p>There was no point, so she stopped. </p><p>Yachi stopped tightening her elastic at every step, stopped holding her life together when she knew that she wouldn’t ever amount to anything anyways. </p><p>And so, her life, her very being, began to unravel, one by one, string by string, a microscopic tear showing itself in the right corner, near the big toe. </p><p>This didn’t go unnoticed to the keen eyes of Sakusa, of course. </p><p>“Yachi!! You.. you have a hole! Fix it before they see!” </p><p>“I can’t. I won’t.”</p><p>“What?? Yachi, I’ll fix it for you! I know I can, let me try!” </p><p>Yachi shakes her head, in defeat, in acceptance, and gestures to the right. More and more holes appeared, around seven in total-it was as if she hadn’t even tried to prevent it.<br/>
They were bound to team up and form a larger one at any time now, those damned parasites. </p><p>But Sakusa wasn’t going to let this happen-not to Yachi, the only friend he’s ever known. </p><p>His gears were shifting as he devised a plan, an intricate, resolute plan. </p><p>But he was too late. </p><p>He watched Yachi get picked up and thrown into the trash like she was nothing. He wanted to scream, to cry, to curse you for taking her away from him, but nothing came out. He couldn’t do anything for Yachi, despite the uncountable things she’s done for him. </p><p>So he sheds a singular tear, and hopes his words can reach her, “Thank you.. For being my first friend.” </p><p>With Yachi gone, he tries his best to live a fulfilling life, as she would’ve wanted him to. </p><p>It’s difficult. It’s hard. He wants to give up. But, for the sake of Yachi, he won’t, he can’t. </p><p>His owner tries and tries to match him up with another, only to reluctantly take the other sock off-it never felt quite right as it did with Yachi. </p><p>Sakusa sees socks come and go, socks big and small, socks with holes and socks without. It didn’t hurt to see them go anymore, like it did with Yachi; It was an everyday occurrence. But at the start of each day, he still had hope that one day he’ll find someone. At the every dusk, without a sight of a new friend, his hope becomes crushed, like paper in pockets, only to find a new hope at the rise of dawn. </p><p>Perhaps he was a masochist. </p><p>Until one day, he meets a white sock, and had daisies, with green stems and golden centers. </p><p>He’d never seen a white sock before. </p><p>Sakusa didn’t understand how a white sock, and him, a black sock, could ever be partners, much less friends. But as the white sock slid onto the left foot, everything made sense. They were different, in every way possible: Different colors, made by different people, the white sock even had pretty flowers Sakusa could only dream of having. Yet, it seemed to fit the same.</p><p>Like wool that had been split into two. </p><p>“I’m Miya Atsumu!!” He grins; If sunflowers could talk, it’d sound like him. He sounded.. almost like Yachi.. </p><p>Or maybe that was just his subconscious projecting. Maybe. </p><p>“Sakusa Kiyoomi.”<br/>
Atsumu had talked a lot, rambling on about volleyball or tuna or whatnot. Sakusa could care less, really, yet found himself listening intently on whatever “Osamu” and “Shoyo” was. Atsumu talked too much, unlike Yachi, who spoke just enough to entertain him. But Atusmu was tolerable, Sakusa supposes, even if his ears were starting to hurt.</p><p>That is, until Atsumu told him he hasn’t been worn in years. How utterly disgusting. Yup. They weren’t a pair, and probably won’t ever be. There was always tomorrow, and the day after that. Sakusa had time to find someone, he was in no rush. </p><p>“Hey Omi?” Omi. Sakusa wasn’t sure how he felt about that, his chest warming, which probably meant he hated it, he thinks, “Yer eyes are reaaal pretty.” </p><p>Do socks have eyes? He thinks and thinks and thinks back to Yachi, and wonders if she had eyes. He couldn’t remember, why couldn’t he remember? Why couldn't he remember the most important person in his life? </p><p>Sakusa turns and looks at Atsumu, met with hazel eyes that made him feel like was drowning in pools of golden honey. Ah, so socks do have eyes. </p><p>Atsumu had rather honest eyes, for someone with a lying mouth. </p><p>“Hellooo? Omi? Respond, I’ll feel like an idiot for flirtin with someone who won’t talk to me!!”</p><p>Sakusa hadn’t realized he’d been staring. </p><p>Atsumu was more likeable than he originally thought. But that doesn’t mean Sakusa liked him, nope, no, not him. </p><p>“Shut up, Miya.” </p><p>“Yer so mean!!!” </p><p>The two talked. and talked. This time, it wasn’t just a one sided conversation between Atsumu and himself. </p><p>(Sakusa was responding, just in his head. It’s Atsumu’s fault for not being able to hear it!)</p><p>Sakusa and Atsumu talked about Osamu, who was Atsumu’s twin brother. Atsumu was apparently the “better sock” and “hated his brother” but Sakusa could see the hints of endearment in his eyes. </p><p>“It must be nice, having someone like that.”  </p><p>“Ya gotta sibling, Omi? Everyone does! I mean, we’re literally pairs of socks!” </p><p>Sakusa muses, and remembers a time where there were two. </p><p>“Yeah, a friend. Yachi Hitoka.” </p><p>It was comforting, having someone to talk to, even if that someone was an idiot like Atsumu. He no longer wept at the thought of Yachi, and instead, spoke about her like a fond memory, not a fleeting happiness. </p><p>It was nice, living life like she would’ve wanted him to. </p><p>“She sounds real nice..” Atsumu pauses, as if afraid, “Were ya in love with her?” </p><p>Love? Sakusa had never thought of it that way. To him, Yachi was like the better part of him. Like two halves of a whole. </p><p>“No, I don’t think so.” </p><p>Atsumu lets out a sigh of relief, to Sakusa’s confusion. </p><p>“Do ya think we’ll ever see each other again, Omi? I mean, we look nothing alike.. We’ll probably never be together again..” </p><p>“Oh,” Sakusa didn’t like the way this made him feel, “I mean, we’ll always be together, right? In the same closet, I mean. We might not be by each other’s sides but I’ll always be here, and you’ll always be with me, right?” The last word came out like a whisper, as if it were a mantra to convince himself, rather than to reassure Atsumu. </p><p>“Always.” </p><p>Atsumu lied.  </p><p>The left boot, Atsumu’s side was drenched in mud. Sakusa saw the boot’s belt unbuckle, then its laces untying. Atsumu was okay right? Nothing was going to happen to the two of them, right? </p><p>Wrong. </p><p>Atsumu’s white daises turned an ugly brown, along with the rest of him. Atsumu was slowly being peeled off, inch by inch.</p><p>“Atsumu!! Don’t leave me!! You promised me!” Sakusa cries and pleads and sobs, yet none of it seemed to reach his owner’s ears. “You can’t leave me, Tsumu! Anyone but you!” </p><p>“Omi.. don’t forget me.. I’ll always be-” </p><p>Sakusa couldn’t hear his last words, Atsumu already thrown into the trash bin.</p><p>Pathetic, he couldn’t even tell Atsumu that he was his first love. </p><p>He was alone, again, with no hope for a new other half, because he knew, that no one could ever compare to the feeling of a soulsock.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Who wants fanart?!?!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>